


Women In Conversation

by shiveringpinkala (aquachampagne)



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: (kind of), And Everything That It Means, And yet, Ann's POV, Character Study, Family, Gen, It's about dick and nix's relationship, M/M, Meeting the in-laws, Period Typical Attitudes, not at all about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:47:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24990274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquachampagne/pseuds/shiveringpinkala
Summary: “You’resupposedto be? Annie, where are you?”She bit her lip, half-tempted to lie just to keep that disappointed tone out of Dick’s voice. “Grand Central Station?”“Grand – New York? You're in New York City. Right now?"(Ann only wanted to see her brother. The can of worms being opened was probably inevitable.)
Relationships: Lewis Nixon/Richard Winters
Comments: 30
Kudos: 145
Collections: Loose Lips Sink Ships Prompt Meme





	Women In Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the _Ann and Blanche meet for the first time._ prompt on Loose Lips Sink Ships. 
> 
> My first work in the Band of Brothers fandom and I don't know what happened. It turned into a kind of Ann character study and somehow ballooned to almost 7000 words of feelings. So. 🤷 Apologies to the original prompter because I'm almost certain that this mess is not what they were looking for. And I'm not totally happy with the ending, but I can only stare at it for so long before I lose it. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine.

Ann wasn’t sure what she expected when she used a large chunk of her allowance to hop a train to New Jersey, but missing the Newark stop completely and ending up in Grand Central Station wasn’t it. The initial plan was to get a cab out to Nixon from Newark and surprise Dick; he couldn’t very well talk her out of anything if he didn’t know she was coming and if she got in late enough he’d put her up for the night, which would give her time to convince him to let her stay for a couple more days. A week if she could swing it.

Now, though, stuck in the throng of other bustling visitors, the unease she probably should’ve felt at the beginning started setting in. She clutched her lone suitcase in one hand and wandered around the cavernous space looking for a payphone and avoiding the occasional commuter’s lingering stare. The wall of phones when she stumbled across it made her take a deep, relieved breath; lungs burning from the oxygen starvation she’d accidentally put them under. 

She fished the folded notebook paper she’d tucked into her purse with Dick’s number, slid into the booth, counted her coins out and dialed quickly, barely touching the sticky keys. The phone rang three times, her hand squeezing at the handle tighter with each one. What if they weren’t home? Then what? Could she stay in the station overnight? How safe would that be? She knew there was no chance she had enough money to get a hotel room in New York City. Next time – 

“Hello?” 

Her shoulders dropped at the familiar voice. “Dick?”

A pause. “Annie?” 

“It’s me.” 

There was a shuffling sound as he moved around. “It’s after nine; how’d you managed to convince Mom to let you use the phone this late?” 

She winced and lowered her eyes even though no one was there to scold her. “She didn’t. I’m supposed to be at a friend’s.” 

Another pause, this one longer. “You’re _supposed_ to be? Annie, where are you?” 

She bit her lip, half-tempted to lie just to keep that disappointed tone out of Dick’s voice. “Grand Central Station?”

“Grand – New York? You’re in New York City. Right now?” 

“Yes?”

“Why – never mind, we’ll talk about it later,” Dick sounded more confused than disappointed, but she had a feeling he was probably saving that up for a face-to-face interrogation. She heard an unfamiliar voice in the background say something to Dick and then the receiver became muffled as if he had tucked a palm around it so she couldn’t hear anymore. After a couple excruciatingly long minutes, Dick came back on the phone, tone more normal, “Okay, Annie, I’ll get there as soon as I can, but it’s going to take a couple hours at least, depending on traffic.” 

“Do I stay here, or…?”

“No,” Dick answered vehemently, “Lew’s sister Blanche lives in the city, she’ll pick you up and we’ll meet you at her place.” 

“Oh,” Ann said, “will she be okay with that?” 

“It’ll be fine,” Dick waved away the concern, sounding distracted. 

“But I won’t know who she is?” Ann pointed out, hating to bring up exactly how much of a burden she was being. 

“Oh, right,” Dick’s voice went distant again as he said something to Mr. Nixon (presumably) and then came back, “Okay, describe what you’re wearing and we’ll tell Blanche when we call her so she’ll be able to spot you.” 

“Uh,” she looked down at herself, “a blue and white dress? Striped. Horizontally. And, uh, I’ve got my green suitcase? You can probably tell her that I’m the redheaded one who looks lost,” she tried to joke. 

Dick’s voice softened at the attempt. “Just for that scaring me, I will. What’s the number for that phone; I’ve got to hang up to call Blanche, but I’ll call back to tell you when she should be there, okay?” 

“Alright,” she said and rattled off the payphone’s number where it was half-faded on the face of the box. Dick recited it back to her and then hung up with the promise to call her right back. When he rang back several long minutes later it was to tell her that Blanche should be there in ten minutes or less and that he was running out the door as they spoke. 

After that, she could do nothing but wait. 

She went to find a seat, keeping a few in-between her and the nearest person. She tucked her suitcase under her legs and tried not to look as desperately out of place as she felt. For the most part no one paid her any mind, but once she accidentally caught the eye of a man sitting across from her and the smile he gave her wasn’t the kind she was used to seeing in Lancaster, so she hunched in on herself and kept her eyes mostly down for the rest of the allotted time.

“With hair like that you’re never actually going to be invisible, honey, but points for effort.” 

The voice came from above Ann’s head and she looked up instinctively. Once her vision focused, she blinked and fell out of her tight spiral. The woman looking down at her made her think immediately of the glossy magazines her friend Sara bought at the drugstore that ended up being passed around the whole group on sleepy afternoons at the lake. She was about Ann’s height and beautiful; dark hair curled and falling softly in the kind of updo that probably took a lot longer to create than anyone would guess and big, dark eyes made bigger by the expertly done make-up surrounding them. The dress she was wearing was like something straight out of _Cosmopolitan_ , all shiny and expensive and a brilliant emerald green, complimented by the elaborate silver clutch in her hands. Looking at her gave Ann the impulse to go right back to hiding. 

The woman frowned cautiously. “You are Ann Winters, aren’t you? Dick’s sister?” 

“I am,” Ann pushed the hair out of her eyes and sat up despite her insecurities, “you’re Mr. Nixon’s sister?” 

“Dear God, Mr. Nixon,” the woman smiled brightly, “Lewis will get a kick out of that. Call me Blanche.” 

“Blanche,” she repeated dutifully, standing, “it’s nice to meet you.” 

Blanche shook her head, but the smile stayed on her face. “You too, darling. Ready to get out of here and see more of New York than the train station?” 

“This was already more of New York than I intended to see,” Ann muttered and then blinked when Blanche’s smile sharpened into a pleased smirk. “What?”

“Nothing,” Blanche said, chuckling lightly, “let’s go, I have a car waiting.” 

The whole ride – which, admittedly, wasn’t very long – Ann stared out the window, slack jawed. She’d been to Philadelphia a couple times, once when she was too young to remember much and another on a class trip to a couple museums, but it didn’t compare to the grandeur that flew by the glass. Apparently finding her astonishment amusing rather than irritating, Blanche graciously leaned over and pointed out buildings as they passed by. The one they pulled up to looked like the others on the outside – big and stately – with a doorman who nodded and called Blanche by name, but once they stepped into the lobby Ann nearly dropped her suitcase. 

The front desk dominated the back wall, but high pillars and arched ceilings made the it feel impossible big, gold accents and marble seemed to be the primary building materials and the floor was so well polished that Ann could practically see her reflection in it. A woman walked by wearing her weight in pearls and jewels and she was torn between the instinctive judgement at the flaunting that she’d had hammered into her and awe at the fortune it must’ve been worth. 

And Blanche _lived_ here. 

“Well, what do you think?” The woman in question did a slow spin, arms outstretched in a classic presenter’s stance. 

“It’s beautiful,” she said truthfully, but apparently wasn’t able to hide the hint of unease this much wealth gave her. 

Blanche dropped her arms and huffed teasingly. “That’s what Dick said; in that exact tone, too.” 

Ann shrugged, not sure how to respond to that. Blanche returned to her side and then led her to the elevator and up to the tenth floor. The apartment itself was less gaudy than she had expected, a kind of classy, vintage style of luxury that you knew was upper crest, but didn’t immediately put you on your heels. Ann liked it. 

“Here,” Blanche swept Ann over to a lavish bedroom, “it’s one of the guest rooms. I suspect that the boys aren’t going to want to drive back once they get here, so I imagine we’ll all be bedding down here.” 

“If you’re sure,” Ann set the suitcase down gingerly; the battered off-green didn’t fit into the cream and peach color scheme at all. 

Blanche didn’t seem to mind the changeling she’d invited into her home. “Make yourself at home, I insist. And join me in the kitchen when you’re settled, riding a train all the way from Lancaster can’t have been fun.” 

She breezed out of the room and Ann stood there for a moment before sinking down onto the bed. She bounced a couple time to test it’s give and after taking in the dresser, walk-in closet and the gargantuan steamer trunk at the foot of the bed, took a minute to breathe. Calmed a bit, she ventured out looking for a bathroom to wash up and wandered into one with a beautiful marbled sink, a mirror that took up most of one wall and a bath that took up the other. She scrubbed at her hands and then splashed water on her face before meeting her reflection’s eyes. 

The power of the light lit up her hair in a stunning halo, despite the flat volume the recycled train air and cushion sleeping managed to do to it. By contrast, it did nothing for her complexion which appeared almost sick; beyond pale and edging into ghostly, freckles standing out in stark relief. She’d grown up with their mother’s constant fussing over their skin, tutting disappointedly whenever one of them stayed out in the sun too long and came home looking like a boiled lobster. The age difference was such that Dick, when he was around, used to be put in charge of making sure she had protection of some kind; hat, sunscreen and sometimes forgot about his own in the process. More than once she watched him frown at a fresh bloom of freckles on his shoulders, face or arms afterwards. 

_He’s going to be so disappointed in me_ , she thought and shut off the faucet. 

By the time she made it out to the modern looking kitchen, Blanche had piled her counters with different sandwich items. She smiled at Ann as she walked in and gestured to the fixings. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so feel free to take what you want.” 

“Thank you,” she made herself a modest ham sandwich, took the Coke offered and they sat at the bar seats pushed up against the island. Before she realized it, she’d inhaled half the sandwich, clearly underestimating either how hungry she was or how good it would be. She wiped at her mouth self-consciously and fought the blush she could feel creeping up her cheeks.

“Feel better?” Blanche asked, amused again. _At least I’m entertaining_ , she thought. 

“Sorry,” Ann mumbled, then added, “this is really good.” 

“If you think that’s good wait until we get you to a restaurant.” 

_If Dick doesn’t ship me back immediately and I’m grounded for the rest of my life_ , Ann thought bitterly and then felt guilty for thinking it at all. She put the sandwich down. “Thanks.” 

Blanche rose an eyebrow at that. “You already said that.” 

“Not for the sandwich. For picking me up. You didn’t have too, but thank you anyway.” 

Strangely, the sincerity made Blanche fidget in a way that nothing else had yet. “Well,” she stopped briefly, then started again, “I couldn’t very well leave you in Grand Central, Dick would have my head.” 

“Still –” 

“It was nothing really, don’t mention it. Though,” Blanche leaned in, the light in her eyes turning curious, “if you don’t mind my asking, how exactly did you end up in need of rescue?” 

That was the question, wasn’t it? _Because I had to know. Because I missed my brother._ But those both led to more questions than Ann could actually answer. “I missed my stop. I was trying to surprise Dick,” she tried to smile, and shrugged, “I guess I succeeded at that, anyway.”

Blanche watched her. The look on her face spoke volumes about how aware she was that Ann was omitting something, but in the end all she said was, “You’re not wrong.” 

The knock on the door interrupted the moment and made Ann jump a foot in the air, sending her heart into a dizzying rhythm. Blanche stood with a huff when the second one rang through the apartment. 

“So impatient,” she muttered and disappeared from the kitchen. 

Ann looked down and pushed the plate away, her stomach rebelling suddenly against what she had eaten. She twisted her fingers together, absentmindedly twirling the silver flower vine ring that Dick had gotten her for her last birthday. It had been almost ten months since she’d last seen him; he’d sounded the same over the phone, but what if he’d changed? What if there had been a good reason for the uneasy distance that had cropped up between him and their parents? The war had already changed so much, maybe –

And then Dick rounded the corner in the kitchen and he was the same big brother that used to let her tag along on walks around town even though most of her friend’s brothers refused to be seen with their sisters outside of family events. He looked harried; mouth pinched and brows furrowed, but his shoulders dropped a little once he caught sight of her. 

“Annie,” he gave her a quick once over, “you’re okay?” 

Their family had always been affectionate in a low, understated way that didn’t always lend itself to overt physical demonstration, but the minute Dick was in range, Ann surprised even herself by launching herself at him. To his credit, he immediately wrapped his arms around her, steadying their balance and planting his body. 

“I’m sorry,” she said once she was able to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth. 

Dick sighed, chin resting on top of her head. “I’m not mad,” he said, even sounding as if he meant it, “only worried, that’s all.” 

“Sorry,” she repeated in an even smaller voice. 

He pulled out of the hug and stared down at her critically. It was her least favorite look of his; it reminded her of their Mother’s and there was absolutely no hiding from it. Idly, she wondered if any of his soldiers ever saw that look and if it affected them the same way it did her. Maybe it made him a better commander, having a look that could make a man want to spill his guts voluntarily. 

“Not that it isn’t nice to see you,” he hedged, “but what in the world were you thinking?”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“That so?” Dick said wryly, one red brow lifting, “I suppose congratulations are in order then. Did the surprise include ending up in New York?”

“Not really.” 

Dick waited for her elaborate and when she didn’t, he only sighed. “I’m assuming,” and there was the tone she’d dreaded since she realized how big of a mess she was in, “that Mom doesn’t know you were planning any of this?” 

There was no point in trying to deny it. “Dick, you don’t have to –” 

“I really do,” he cut her off, expression set in familiar, non-negotiable lines that said plainly _I-will-be-moving-the-mountain-now._

“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” Ann tried half-heartedly; too stubborn to concede even in the face of certain failure. Their Mother always said it was the least attractive quality they both shared and that she had no idea where they’d gotten it from; normally with a small, knowing smile quirking at her lips as the words left her mouth. She had a feeling that the smile wouldn’t be there this time. 

“I don’t live there anymore,” Dick said, tone going strange as he continued, “I can’t get in trouble anymore.” 

Ann blinked, a little thrown at the matter of fact, abrupt way he said it. “Dick –” 

“You on the other hand,” he said, trailing off and letting her fill in the blanks on her own. 

They stared at each other for a minute. Finally, she huffed. “ _Fine_.” 

He rolled his eyes, but a hint of amusement entered his face, probably despite himself. “Come on,” he said, directing her away from the kitchen and down the hall to the room she assumed was the living room – or, wait, did they call it the parlor here in Manhattan? It seemed a bit opulent for the title of living room – where Blanche was lounging on an honest-to-god chaise lounge and a man she assumed was the oft-mentioned Mr. Nixon was artfully sprawled in the chair next to it. 

They both broke off the whispered conversation when she and Dick walked into the room. Blanche offered her a smile and Mr. Nixon stood upon seeing her tucked into Dick’s side. He looked like his sister; messy dark hair and darker eyes in a handsome face, long fingers barely hanging onto a tumbler with some kind of amber colored liquor. He gave her a smile too, which made the resemblance between the two siblings ratchet up, but there was a hesitance to his that Blanche’s didn’t have.

“Hey,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “you must be Ann?”

“What gave it away?” Ann said without thinking and promptly wanted to disappear into the interior when the words caught up to her. 

Mr. Nixon blinked and then started laughing; his stance relaxed markedly and he raised his glass to her in a silent toast. “Definitely a Winter’s,” he grinned and the open expression took his attractiveness to a whole different level, which only made the blush beat harder in her face, “I’d recognize that sense of humor from _at least_ a hundred paces. Dries up the whole room,” he elaborated, then he dropped his head and voice as if imparting a great secret, “though between you and me, they hair definitely helped.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dick shake his head exasperatedly, and she cleared her throat of the chuckle that wanted to fall out. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Nixon,” she said, sticking her hand our solemnly. 

His thick eyebrows jumped up at the address, but he took her hand in a brief shake. “Jesus,” he muttered, “call me Lew, please. Or Lewis. Mr. Nixon belongs to my father only,” he said it with the tone that said he could think of little else he would want to be confused with, face grimacing a bit. 

Ann only nodded. “Sure, I can do that.” 

“Blanche, do you mind if I use your phone?” Dick asked. 

The woman in question rolled her own eyes and pierced Dick with a steady look as she took a drag of the cigarette in her hand. “No, Dick, I do not. You know you don’t have to ask; Lewis certainly never does.” 

“I’m not a Nixon,” Dick pointed out. 

Blanche opened her mouth to retort and then, bafflingly, glanced at Ann before shutting it again and shrugging gracefully in acquiescence. Dick moved, skirting around Ann and brushing past Mr. Ni – Lewis, squeezing his arm as he did and venturing out into the wherever the phone was in the apartment. 

She sat down on the overstuffed couch across; unsure what to say now that she was alone with the two siblings. Apparently taking pity on her, Blanche snuffed out her cigarette on the nearby ashtray and said, “I’m sure your Mother will understand missing your stop; happens to the best of us sometimes.” 

Ann winced. “Probably she would,” she conceded, “if she’d known I was leaving Pennsylvania at all.” 

Blanche’s eyes widened. “You just took off without telling anyone?” 

“Basically.” 

“Dick didn’t tell me that little tidbit when he called,” she said, looking over at Lewis, who rose an eyebrow at her silent inquiry, “well, in that case, I’m impressed.” 

Lewis snorted into his drink. “You would be.” 

“I am. Bravo, darling. I wish I’d done it more when I was younger.” 

“As if your old now,” Lewis said and then pointed a finger at her, “and don’t corrupt Dick’s sister, I’m the one who’ll get blamed for it.” 

“Excuse me, I think I’m perfectly capable of corrupting myself, thank you very much,” Ann cut in, bizarrely angry at the notion that she needed someone’s permission to go off the rails a bit, despite the kind of self-satisfied flare that caught in her chest at Blanche’s obvious approval, “not that I would, of course.” 

Blanche laughed. “Of course.” 

“Christ,” Lewis shook his head, but there was a wry tilt to his words after it, “I'm now regretting letting you two meet. Still, you about gave Dick a heart attack tonight, so as a personal favor to me, maybe tell him before you pull any of these kinds of stunts in the future?”

Before Ann could answer that, Dick came back into the room, expression weary. “She wants to speak to you,” he gestured at her to follow him. She did and tried not to be so obvious about feeling as if she were walking to the gallows. 

She picked up the phone and Dick touched her shoulder in a moment of solidarity, before leaving her in the hall to face their mother’s ire alone. She was grateful for the privacy. 

“Mom.” 

“Ann.” 

Silence met them for a dizzyingly long moment. “Dick said you’re in New York.” 

“I meant to be in New Jersey.” 

“That’s not better,” she said. A sigh filtered through the line. “what on Earth were you thinking?” 

Dick had asked her the same thing in the kitchen, but instead of the chastised feeling she’d gotten then, now all she could conjure up was annoyance. “I was thinking that I wanted to see my brother.” 

“You can see your brother whenever you like, you know that. There’s no need to go galivanting off and lying about it.” 

“Isn’t there? I don’t know that, not at all.” 

Quiet. “What is that supposed to mean?” Her mother’s voice got sharper. 

“I’m not a little kid, Mother,” she bit out, “you think I don’t see what’s going on?”

“Ann –” 

“You said I couldn’t go,” she said, the frustration of the last couple months pouring out in a cascade, “I asked after school got out if I could go visit and you said after July 4th and then when I asked again, you said maybe in August. Last week, when I said I’d buy my own ticket, you said you didn’t want me travelling alone. I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were.” 

“Not is so many words,” she countered bitterly. 

“And I’m not keeping you from seeing your brother, not matter what you may think.” 

“You can tell yourself that all you want. But it’s a lie.”

Pointed, hurt silence met her declaration and they sat on the phone listening to each other breathe before Ann switched tracks.

“What happened?” She asked, not particularly liking the desperation coating her voice – desperate was not in the Winters family vocabulary – but unable to keep it from going in that direction. “Everything was fine until last September and then you’re fighting and now you don’t want me to see my own brother, I don’t…I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this.” 

“Annie,” her mother’s tone suddenly sounded exhausted, and there was a gentleness to it that reminded her of being ten years old and being told that their pet beagle had died while she’d been at school. About being told that Dick was going off to Europe and no one could tell her when – or if – he’d be coming home. Her heart picked up the pace at the sound of it; thumping painfully against her ribs and lung, “I swear that I was not keeping you from seeing Dick. I just needed some time.” 

“Some time? Time for _what_?” 

She sighed again, deeper this time. “I think that’s for you and Dick to discuss.” 

Ann had an abrupt and all-encompassing urge to scream. “Fine, I – _fine_. I’ll ask him.”

“Alright. How long did you plan on being there?” 

Ann narrowed her eyes at the suspicious lack of scolding in the tone. “A few days, if he’ll let me.” 

“Alright,” her mother reiterated, “well, I’ll see you when you get back.” 

“Okay.” 

“And Annie, I know you aren’t a child anymore, I do,” she paused briefly, “but it’s a mother’s instinct to protect their children from things. Sometimes even things they don’t need protecting from.” 

The angry clawing at her gut died away, plunking down into her stomach and transforming into a foreboding heaviness that sat there. “Okay.”

They said their goodbyes – much subdued – and hung up. Ann stared down at her hand, hand grazing the top of the phone. Down the hall, the distant strands of easy conversation were drifting out to her, though the words themselves were unintelligible. She pushed down a bit, enough to see her fingers go white around the edges from the pressure and then turned, marching back to the parlor. 

When she got there, Lewis was telling some story about something – she wasn’t paying attention to the words – the hand holding the tumbler waving around to accompany the tale. Blanche was laughing along, but it was Dick that Ann was paying attention too. Her brother was perched on the arm of Lewis’ chair, body leaning slightly down and into the other’s body. He looked relaxed – comfortable – as if it was a thing, he did all the time, arms and hands folded into an X over his elevated leg. He was smiling and the way he was looking at Lewis was something that Ann had rarely seen outside of photographs or movies; the kind you read about in books, soft and indulgent. Lewis’ other hand was unseen, but Ann remembered her parents sitting that way sometimes and could imagine the lazy crawl of fingertips that her father used to trace up her mother’s spine when they did. 

She sucked a breath in, too loudly by half, but unable to stop herself from doing it. 

Dick looked up and straightened when he saw her. She didn’t have the faintest clue what her face must’ve been doing, but whatever it was, she didn’t think it was good because his own became instantly troubled, amusement falling away from the angles. 

“Annie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

She swallowed hard and began twirling her ring again, restless strokes of her thumb over the raised silver. “I –” 

Dick frowned, now properly worried. “Ann, what happened? What did Mom say?” 

She hadn’t said anything. But in the months following their nameless fight – the one that ended with Dick barely giving her a passing goodbye, face thunderous, as he stalked out of the house – she had paid close attention for anything that might hint at what had happened. She’d prayed more, their mother, in those first few weeks and when they went to the bakery on Tremble Street, she had either very carefully avoided looking at Stan Glock or stared at him so intently that it made Ann uncomfortable. Stan Glock, the sheriff’s son who everyone knew was that way, even if no one ever said so, and was never actively treated poorly because of the respect everyone had for his parents. Stared at him as if she could see something, pick him apart and understand his inner workings. Or, when she avoided looking at all, as if he didn’t – couldn’t – exist if she pretended hard enough. 

It was a leap. But maybe not a big one. And certainly not Ann ever imagined having to make.

“Does she know?” Ann asked finally, the only ghost in the room apparently being her voice which came out so softly that even she had a hard time hearing it. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Is that why you were fighting? Because she found out?” 

Dick’s body went rigid. Next to him, Lewis looked between them, confusion etching itself into his forehead and mouth. That was fine; Ann was concentrated on her brother and didn’t really care what his…

 _…his what?_ She thought a little hysterically, _his partner? Lover? Was that the proper term for…_ even in her head she couldn’t repeat the foul words she occasionally heard others use to describe those kinds of men. 

“Is that what she said?” Dick asked, voice blank. 

“No,” she admitted, “but I knew it had to be big, something that would keep you away for this long. And I’m not some dumb, naïve idiot,” she clenched her fists involuntarily at the idea, “I’m _not_.” 

“I never said you were,” he reassured her, easing to his feet. 

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, then in a quieter tone, “Don’t you trust me?” 

Dick’s face expression went from wary to defeated. “That’s not fair.” 

“None of this is fair!” She yelled, even though she knew she was being unreasonable.

“Okay, I hate to interrupt,” Lewis cut in, tone belying the words, “but what exactly is going on?” 

Ann rounded on the other man and pointed at him, watching his eyes widen as hurt bubbled in her eyes and chest. “What’s going on? You’re – you’re _sleeping with my brother_ that’s what’s going on!” 

The room was an electric kind of quiet in the wake of her outburst. The kind of quiet that walked on tiptoes trying to get around something without drawing attention to itself. The kind of quiet that lingered in the air at the bookends of a summer storm. Ann lowered her arm and tried to keep herself from vibrating right out of her skin. 

Lewis carefully reached over and sat his tumbler down on the table next to his chair and took a shuddery breath. “Right,” he said, eyes cutting away from all the occupants of the room, almost as if he was speaking to himself, “that wasn’t what I was expecting to hear.” 

“Am I wrong?” Unable to stop herself from digging for that extra bit. 

“Annie –” Dick began. 

“Am. I. Wrong?” 

Dick closed his eyes; his hands were shaking. Ann hadn’t thought anything or anyone had the power to do that. “No. No, you’re not wrong.” 

It was funny, how a person could look for validation – could _know_ they were right – and still be struck dumb when it was confirmed. 

“And that’s what you and Mom fought about?” 

“Yes.” 

They stared at each other, blue on blue. “Well,” Dick said into the void, traces of stubborn anger now lacing the words, “now what, Ann?” 

The tears that she’d been fighting since the phone call with their Mother ended spilled over. Lord Almighty, _what now?_ “I…I don’t…”

A clap rang through the room and made Ann flinch violently. “That’s quite enough of that,” Blanche announced, standing up; Ann was ashamed to admit she’d forgotten about the woman in her own home. The brunette walked over to Ann’s side and wrapped an arm around her, “Ann and I are going for a little talk, that okay with you?” She directed the last at Ann, thought her expression said it wasn’t actually a request. Ann nodded. 

“Good, you two stay here and we’ll be back,” Blanche pulled her away from the parlor and over to a set of French doors that apparently led to a fairly good-sized balcony. The older woman guided her onto the loveseat that was sat out, “Sit here, I’ll be right back.” 

Blanche vanished and Ann sat where she was directed. She wanted to pull her legs up under her chin the way she did was she was younger, but her dress was too short to cover even her knees if she did that, so instead she only stared out at the New York buildings surrounding her and listened to the noise that the city produced even this late at night. Eventually, the other woman returned and sat down next to Ann, tucking on leg under her in the process. 

She offered Ann a glass. “You look like you need it.” 

It looked like water. Ann took it and drank, almost immediately coughing at the burn that raced down her throat. Blanche took the glass back and rubbed at her back while she hacked. 

“What was that?” 

“Gin,” Blanche said, “it seems like that kind of night.” 

“It was terrible.” 

“It’s an acquired taste,” she admitted and leaned in a little, bumping her shoulder with Ann’s, “it’ll be our little secret, alright?” 

“Alright.” 

She eyed Ann. “Feeling a little better? I’ve found fresh air always does me good when I’m upset,” she stopped and gave Ann a wry grin at that, “well, as fresh as city air can be anyway.” 

Ann nodded slowly. “Kind of. Thanks.” 

Blanche looked out over the city, taking a much smaller sip of the drink herself before speaking. “I used to think Lewis was the smartest man I knew.” 

Ann blinked at the non-sequitur. “What?” 

“Oh, I grew out of it, of course. Got older and realized that my big brother was as much a mess as the rest of us – even more of one sometimes – but even now there’s a small part of me that expects him to have all the answers; that’s a little bit disappointed when he doesn’t.”

She looked at Ann shrewdly. “I imagine finding out your brother’s only human after all is that much worse when the brother in question is Dick.” 

Ann felt her shoulder bunch up around her ears. “That’s not it. I know Dick’s not perfect.” 

“Then tell me,” Blanche turned, angling her body so that she was facing Ann head on, arm balanced on the back of the couch and cradling her head in her hand, “how is it?” 

Ann worked to wrangle her scattering thoughts. How was it? She thought about what was left of her family not speaking for ten months. About Stan Glock, who was never bullied to his face, but was treated like a leaper nonetheless; the aching loneliness that dripped off of him as obvious as a neon sign. 

“I’m scared.” 

Blanche watched her, face betraying nothing. “Scared of him or for him?” 

Ann tried not to be too offended at the implication of the first choice. “For him.” 

Blanche nodded and took another drink, before sitting the glass down on the small, ornate table in front of the couch. “While we’re keeping secrets, want to hear another one?” 

Ann shrugged. “Sure.” 

“Me too,” Blanche whispered, “I’m scared for both of them. From the moment I figured it out. And unless something changes drastically, I suspect I will be for the rest of their lives.” 

Ann chewed on that for a moment. “You think they’re going to be together that long?” 

“Well, it certainly wouldn’t surprise me if Dick decides to up and drop Lew’s ass for someone better,” she smiled, softening the harsh words into a joke, “but I don’t see Lew leaving unless he’s dead or Dick makes him.” 

“It’s hard to imagine him fitting in with all this,” Ann said, waving a hand at the cityscape and meaning the money that the Nixon family obviously had at their disposal. 

“Oh, he does alright,” Blanche argued breezily, “for a Quaker.” 

The comment surprised a laugh out of Ann. “He told you that story?” 

“You’ll have to forgive big city snobs; we all think we know everything, but there isn’t a one of us that wouldn’t look like idiots if you put us somewhere rural.”

Ann nodded solemnly, but couldn’t quite keep the amused tone of out her voice. “We’ll show you how to use a lawn mower if you ask real nice.” 

Blanche snickered and before Ann knew it, so was she and the two of them slumped together, giggling like they were both still in junior high, most of the built-up anxiety and tension loosening in her muscles. 

The giggles died away and they listened to the soft carry of music from somewhere closer to ground level, a car backfiring in the distance. Blanche reached over and finished her drink in one smooth gulp. 

“So, I hate to be a broken record,” she said, wiping the last of the glass’ condensation on her forehead to cool down the sticky night air, “but what now?” 

What now. Ann took a deep breath. “He’s my brother,” she said infusing every feeling of loyalty and love and exasperation she could into the words. 

Blanche mouth lifted in commiserating smile. “To idiotic big brothers than.” 

She stood and gave Ann a hand to do the same. They left the balcony and latched the door before meandering their way back to the parlor where Dick and Lewis were not-so-patiently waiting. Dick was actually pacing, while Lewis was sitting – on the couch this time – seemingly at peace, except his leg jiggling fretfully. Both men’s heads whipped to face them when they walked back in. 

Ann looked at Dick, but then settled on Lewis. She waved a hand at Dick’s questioning ‘Annie?’ and walked up to Lewis until she was close enough that he had to crane his neck to look at her. 

“Do you love my brother?” 

Dick’s questioning muttering went prickly, but she ignored him, staring down into Lewis Nixon’s shadowed eyes. Lewis’ leg stilled and he flexed one of his hands nervously. For a moment she didn’t think he was going to answer her, until the expression on his face smoothed out and he nodded once firmly. 

“Yes,” he said unwaveringly. 

The last of the hollow feeling in her chest subsided and she smiled. Lewis must have taken that for the approval it was, because the straightness of his frame sagged a little and relief washed over his eyes. 

“Good,” she said, “I expect you to take care of him, then.” 

“For crying out loud,” Dick muttered from behind her. 

Lewis grinned (and if it was a smidge off-kilter, she wouldn’t tell) and gave her a salute. “Yes, ma’am.” 

She turned around then and looked at Dick. _Really_ looked at him. He was standing with his arms crossed, and giving her an unimpressed look, but beneath it there was a mix of anticipation and wariness that Dick rarely felt; or, well, rarely displayed anyway. Some deep seeded part of herself was instantly saddened that anything she’d done had brought that out in him. She never wanted to be someone he worried about. 

“You deserve to have someone looking out for you,” she told him.

He dropped his arms, taken aback. Then, clearly reading her expression correctly, reassurance settled over his frame. “At least I never ended up in New York City by accident.” 

She groaned. “I’m never living this down, am I?” 

“Ask me again in ten years,” Dick said and then came over to pull her in a hug. 

She dug her fingers into his back and didn’t let go. 

The next morning, while the Nixon siblings bickered about what to have for breakfast, Ann leaned over and said: “Mom says she’s sorry.”

He looked incredulous. “She actually said that?” 

“Well, no,” she said, certain of it nonetheless, “but she is.” _A mother’s instinct to protect their child even from things they didn’t need protecting from_. It was a Winters kind of apology maybe, but an apology even so. 

“If you say so,” he shrugged, not hiding his hope very deep. 

Ann, accepting both the croissant that Blanche passed her and the woman’s invitation to go shopping at some of city’s staples while the boy groaned aloud in perfect unison, didn’t bother hiding hers at all. Blanche winked at her while Lew launched into a spiel about his last disastrous trip to Bloomingdale’s and Ann beamed in response. 

"Hey," Lewis interrupted himself and Ann looked over surprised to see him grinning at her. "Listen up, I'm about to deliver a war's worth of blackmail on your brother, here." 

"Thanks, Nix," Dick said wryly, but he looked happy. Nearly incandescent with it. All in that underappreciated way of his; Ann hadn't seen him this happy since before the war, maybe ever. 

She looked at Lew. This rich, handsome guy that didn't have a thing in common with her brother but who made him brighten up like a sunny day and quietly resolved to thank God that they found each other and every day got together. 

"Okay," she said, feeling soft and content, "I'm listening."


End file.
